


A guy like you should wear a warning/It's dangerous/I'm falling

by Neyiea



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Jerome opens his arms as if Bruce would actually trust him enough to take even one more step closer in his direction and says, with a too wide smile, “Come to daddy.”Bruce briefly pauses his retreat and barely manages to keep himself from sending an incredulous look Jerome’s way.“No,” he says flatly.
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 17
Kudos: 219





	A guy like you should wear a warning/It's dangerous/I'm falling

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my enabling friends, but most especially to the one who brought daddy kink up first so that I didn't have to and without whom this def would have never happened. 
> 
> Title from Toxic by Britney Spears
> 
> xoxo

Bruce doesn’t necessarily intend to save Jerome—at least that’s what he tells himself—when he throws himself into the unfair fight which Jerome had, technically, started when he’d decided that cussing out a bunch of mobsters was a fine way to dissuade them from intruding on a set of abandoned buildings that Jerome had decided to claim as his own for kidnap-and-hold-hostage-purposes.

Jerome is lucky that Bruce had already been halfway out of his restraints when the fight started going down because, despite what he might like to believe, he was not actually invincible. 

Afterwards they size each other up from across the room, and Bruce hopes that Jerome isn’t planning on capturing him again because he’d really just like to go home and try to forget how much his body is currently aching. He’s so tired he wouldn’t even mind letting Jerome get away—just this once—so that they could do this over again when Bruce’s ribs aren’t bruised from a lucky kick and his nose isn’t bleeding from a punch to the face.

“Saving me again,” Jerome says, barely loud enough for Bruce to hear. “Such a good boy,” he praises, which is unfortunately not an unusual term of mocking endearment from him. Bruce steps back, preparing himself for the mad-dash to get away when Jerome eventually lunges. But instead of rushing forward Jerome opens his arms as if Bruce would actually trust him enough to take even one more step closer in his direction and says, with a too wide smile, “Come to daddy.”

Bruce briefly pauses his retreat and barely manages to keep himself from sending an incredulous look Jerome’s way.

“No,” he says flatly. He turns away and doesn’t look back as he goes. 

He studiously ignores the slight uptick in his heartbeat.

x-x-x

Bruce’s bruised ribs have barely just healed by the time he’s facing Jerome one-on-one again.

And by one-on-one Bruce means that Jerome needed three of his lackies to incapacitate Bruce for long enough to be tied to a chair before everyone had been dismissed with a casual wave of a hand and a not-at-all-casual cocking of a gun. 

As soon as they’re alone Jerome tucks the gun away and he stares down at Bruce intently.

With his movements concealed behind his back Bruce steadily gets to work attempting to free his hands. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Jerome starts seriously, which probably doesn’t bode well for Bruce. “About the last time we tangoed and you ran off without saying goodbye.” He drags a chair over and flips it around so that the back is facing Bruce, then pushes it even closer so that the legs of it are brushing against Bruce’s shins. He straddles the seat, arms folding in front of him, and gazes at Bruce with an expression that Bruce doesn’t know how to read. “You saved me again, and you didn’t even stick around to let me thank you.”

Bruce isn’t sure he wants to know what Jerome ‘thanking’ him would consist of because he’s pretty certain it would involve a lot less actual gratitude and a lot more threats against his person than a traditional ‘thank you’ would entail. 

“Excuse me for wanting to get away before you once again decided that the only thing funnier than me saving your life would be if you watched someone else take me out.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” Jerome protests, but his expression flickers with obvious amusement. 

“I don’t believe you. At all.” 

“Aw, c’mon Brucie, don’t be like that.” Jerome straightens in the seat, fingers tapping restlessly against the back of the chair. “After you saved me a second time? I wouldn’t let someone else hurt you.” His eyes flicker with something that Bruce doesn’t think he’s seen before which leaves Bruce feeling warier than usual. His heart trips anxiously behind his ribs. “You were such a good boy, like usual. I could have paid you back for it, baby.”

Bruce’s lips purse into a thin line at the new nickname. He ignores absolutely everything that he’s feeling other than annoyance. 

“By what, exactly? Tending to my bloody nose?”

Jerome hums under his breath, neither an assent or a denial, and his eyelashes flutter strangely as he looks Bruce over from the top of his head to the toes of his shoes, then back up again to meet his eyes. 

“I would have taken such good care of you,” Jerome croons as him, reaching forward and petting a hand through his hair. Bruce freezes at the gentle touch for a few seconds too long to act as if he’s unaffected by it, and his mind scrambles for something sharp to say to make up for the too-obvious moment of weakness. 

“You’ve ‘taken care of’ a lot of people, Jerome. You might recall that they’re all in their graves, now. I’d much rather stay alive.”

Jerome chuckles roughly under his breath. Bruce closes his eyes for a second and steadily thinks about the least attractive things he can imagine, even though he kind of hates himself for having to do it. 

“The double meaning is irrelevant in this case, because that’s not how I’d take care of you, baby.” Jerome’s fingers twist into his hair and Bruce’s mind flickers, thoughts rushing off track before he forces them to focus back on things like being kidnapped by people who aren’t Jerome and being threatened by people who aren’t Jerome and being held at knifepoint by people who aren’t Jerome. “Want to know the difference between you and them?”

Bruce could hazard a guess, but he absolutely refuses to say it. 

“I didn’t want to be their daddy.”

Bruce kicks Jerome in the knee and manages to escape without any more hair petting taking place, though he can feel the ghost of Jerome’s fingers hours after he’s left the man behind. 

Do not think about it, he tells himself firmly later that night. Do not think about it, do not think about it. He’s only saying it to throw you off. Do not think about it.

He thinks about it.

x-x-x

The first time they kiss it’s… Well, it’s something.

Jerome definitely didn’t kiss him like Selina or Silver kissed him. Jerome kissed him like there was a timer ticking down and once it hit zero he’d be torn away from Bruce forever, so he had to make the most of what little time he had.

Bruce would never ever admit it, but he could lose himself in these sorts of kisses; drunk on the attention and the intimacy and the way Jerome was so obviously enjoying every moment. 

When Jerome pulls away his eyes are sparking dangerously and he’s smiling in a way that Bruce will never verbally acknowledge makes his breath catch, and before Jerome has the chance to open his mouth Bruce pushes his hand against Jerome’s rough lips. 

“Don’t.” Bruce has given in enough for today, and Jerome will absolutely never let him forget it. He needs a few moments of peace to recover some of his better judgment and that’s not going to happen if Jerome starts jokingly insisting on being referred to as his seemingly favourite nickname. “Don’t ruin the moment, Jerome.”

Jerome laughs and kisses his fingers, granting Bruce a brief respite.

Later Bruce thinks about it anyway, though, covering his flushing face with a pillow as his mind fixates on what it would have been like to pull away from the kiss and look up at Jerome from underneath his eyelashes and call him ‘daddy’.

Would Jerome laugh at him for finally giving into the punchline of an ongoing joke, or would Jerome…

Actually be into it?

Stop thinking about it, he orders himself.

He doesn’t.

x-x-x

They kiss a lot more. They touch a lot more.

Even though Bruce never says it Jerome never stops.

“You don’t have to be shy, Brucie,” Jerome tells him between laughing kisses as his hands skim along Bruce’s belt before pushing up underneath his shirt, practically ripping it off of him. “You can call me daddy, I promise I won’t mind.”

“Believe it or not I figured that out for myself, Jerome,” Bruce says as dryly as he can manage, given the current situation. “Since you are, in fact, the one who keeps bringing it up.”

But he absolutely refuses. There’s no way. If he gives in one time Jerome will never let it go. Jerome will never stop. Jerome will be insufferable. Jerome will be mid-broadcast and will refer to himself as ‘daddy’ while cheekily winking into the camera. Jerome will be in the midst of kidnapping Bruce and he’ll whisper ‘come with daddy’ into Bruce’s ear and Bruce will just have to somehow live with it.

He cannot give Jerome the satisfaction. Jerome was already full of himself and Bruce needs to keep his ego as contained as possible. Giving in, even once, was unacceptable. 

Later Jerome’s fingers are wrapped around his cock and when Jerome huskily asks him if he’s close the words ‘yes, daddy’ flash in Bruce’s mind before he comes. 

x-x-x

At this point it does not surprise him and he’s gotten a lot of practice with his poker face, but when they have sex for the first time and Jerome tells him, soft and sweet and utterly genuine, “Daddy’s going to take such good care of you,” Bruce feels an answer that he both really does and really doesn’t want to give build up in his throat and he actually has to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything incriminating. 

x-x-x

“Such a good boy,” Jerome coos between laying kisses across Bruce’s chest. “Sweet baby boy. And you’re all mine.”

“Jerome,” Bruce whines, but his frantic mind is whining something else. “Please.” His thighs clamp around Jerome, trying to urge him closer, deeper, and Jerome shudders above him but he still takes it maddeningly slow. He loves to watch Bruce unravel. He loves to drive Bruce absolutely crazy. It’s too much. It’s not enough. A word lays heavily upon Bruce’s tongue, perhaps the key to making Jerome do exactly what Bruce wants him to do, but Bruce is so used to instinctively pushing it down that he finds he cannot say it. “Jerome, please.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bruce, I’ll give you everything you need.” Jerome darts down to press a kiss to each of Bruce’s burning cheeks. “I’ll always take such good care of you.” He finally starts to move, and Bruce’s breath catches in his throat at the sensation.

“I know you will,” Bruce says, hands scrabbling over Jerome’s back and into his hair. “I know you will.” He tugs Jerome down for another kiss. 

‘I know you will, daddy.’

It’s intimate and beautiful and it makes Bruce feel dizzy and completely overwhelmed. Jerome’s fingers dig into his hips and Jerome’s mouth is always on him and Jerome’s cock is filling him up and Bruce needs, needs, needs—

One of Jerome’s hands wraps tightly around his cock and Bruce’s entire body jolts, muscles clenching as he reels. 

“Come for me,” Jerome whispers, fucking into Bruce and playing with cock and sounding so, so into every single thing. “Come for daddy.”

Bruce sinks his teeth into Jerome’s shoulder and bites him hard enough to break skin as he does as he’s told.

x-x-x

Jerome has persisting moments of tenderness and sweetness and open adoration; calling Bruce baby and his good boy and making Bruce feel like he’s the only person on the planet who has ever actually mattered. He can be gentle and considerate in a way that makes Bruce’s chest ache with the amount of love that he feels; enough that surely if the emotion took up space his heart would split open from being overfilled. But Bruce knows, with certainty, that he can be wild too. He’s seen enough schemes and fought him enough times to realize that there was something deeply, beautifully deranged that was at the core of everything Jerome did; either planned or on a whim.

But Jerome—for some maddening reason which probably involved driving Bruce so crazy with need that he’d give himself over completely—holds that part of himself back when they’re intimate. Oh, there are flashes of it—and Bruce’s heart leaps every time he catches a glimpse of it or feels it in the way Jerome’s handling of him becomes rougher and even more possessive than usual—but it never fully breaks through even though it’s obvious that he wants it to. Bruce can see it in Jerome’s eyes. He can hear it in his voice. He can taste on it his skin.

And Bruce wants it like that, too. He doesn’t only want one side of Jerome, he wants all sides of Jerome. Bruce, braced on his hands and knees, feeling Jerome’s cock dragging teasingly across his cleft before slowly being driven inside, feels his resolve finally crumble to dust.

“So good for me,” Jerome says with a loving sigh, pulling partway out before advancing further, his chest stretching along Bruce’s back, one of his hands settling over Bruce’s rapidly beating heart. “Always so good, it makes me wanna give you the whole world on fire.” He presses in the rest of the way and Bruce’s dick strains in the air, untouched, at the feeling of it. “Tell me what you want, Bruce.” He pulls back a fraction before lightly rocking forward. “Tell me how you want it.”

Fuck it. Jerome’s obviously never going to stop anyways. Bruce may as well let him have what he wants so that Bruce can get what he wants.

“Harder, daddy,” Bruce mumbles under his breath, practically too quiet for even himself to hear, face immediately flushing as the word which has leapt into the forefront of his mind too often finally tumbles across his tongue. 

“What was that, baby?” Jerome lays adoring kisses across his shoulders, and he definitely didn’t actually hear what Bruce said otherwise he’d be reacting to it, which means Bruce is going to have to say it again. Nervousness and desire roil inside of him, leaving him in a state of heated panic. His tongue feels weighted in his mouth and his lips move without sound for several seconds before he can actually manage to repeat himself.

“Harder, daddy,” he says, just loud enough to be heard, practically choking on the words he’s so embarrassed by them. Behind him Jerome immediately goes still and Bruce’s fluttering, hot panic begins to freeze over into pure mortification before he hears Jerome hiss out a breath from between his teeth.

“All you ever had to do was ask, Bruce,” he rasps. The hand over Bruce’s heart drags down to glide possessively into the hair at the base of Bruce’s cock, fingertips barely brushing against aching flesh. “I can do that for you, baby.”

Bruce’s mind whirrs and stutters, he opens his mouth to attempt to say something in response, but Jerome draws back and drives into him hard enough that Bruce almost pitches forward onto his face and all he can do is huff out a wordless breath as he catches himself. Jerome rocks into him again, firm and steady, and it’s good, but Bruce knows that there’s more and Bruce needs more.

“Harder,” he says, and this time when he bites his tongue it’s because he almost says ‘Jerome’ when he knows that the key to getting what he wants lies in giving Jerome what Jerome wants. “Please, daddy,” his voice cracks, behind him Jerome makes a low sound, equal parts pleased and hungry. If Bruce’s hands weren’t the only thing keeping him supported he’d be covering his burning face. “I’ve been good. I—” His breath catches in his throat when both of Jerome’s hands dig into the skin over his hips. “I’m your good boy.”

“I know you are, Bruce.” Jerome’s voice is low, edged with the wildness that Bruce has wanted so badly to break through. His hands grip Bruce’s hips tight as he slams forward, Bruce rocking underneath him, lowering himself down onto his elbows for more stability. “You’re always so good for daddy.” He draws back, and the next time he drives forward he pulls Bruce’s hips to meet him, controlling Bruce’s movements in a way that he never has before. “You should be rewarded for it, baby.” His hands move again, dragging up Bruce’s waist and ribs, skimming down his arms, bracketing his elbows. Jerome presses a hot kiss to the crook of Bruce’s neck before he thrusts in again, again, again, each time harder than the last.

Holy fuck.

Bruce hides his hot face in the bend of one elbow and arcs his back. 

“I’ll give you everything you want, Bruce, everything you need,” Jerome promises fervently, lips skimming the shell of Bruce’s ear. “And you’ll deserve it all.” Jerome’s pelvis strikes against his ass hard enough for Bruce to hear the sharp slap of skin-on-skin. “Baby, the things I wanna do for you…” One of Jerome’s hands slides along Bruce’s forearm, his fingers slotting between the spaces of Bruce’s own, which have fisted tightly into the bedsheets. “The things I wanna do to you…” His hand grips Bruce’s firmly, and somehow that just makes the fever inside of Bruce burn brighter. 

Bruce inhales a shuddering breath, shaking under the onslaught of Jerome’s dedicated attention and loving every single moment of it.

“Please, please daddy,” he babbles, feeling even hotter just from saying the word. “You’re making me feel so good, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, Bruce. I won’t.”

Jerome’s chest slides along his back as he retreats. His other hand glides up Bruce’s neck and into his hair, fisting into the strands as if he means to pull.

“Wish I could see your face,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the idea of it. “I won’t let you hide away from me next time, baby.” He drives inside, and Bruce feels so good and so full and so turned on that he audibly whines. Behind him Jerome shudders, his hand drags down the line of Bruce’s spine before circling around his hip, once again skimming into the hair at the base of Bruce’s cock but making no move to touch it. 

Bruce could probably come like this, just from getting fucked, but he wants, wants, wants—

And all he has to do is ask.

“Touch me, daddy.” He braces himself, his nails dig into the sheets, he feels a wave building up inside of him. “I want it, I want it, please, daddy.”

“Of course, baby.” Jerome palms him, too hard to be teasing, obviously just as affected by this as Bruce is, before his fingers actually wrap around him. “Daddy’s going to take such.” His palm glides over the head of Bruce’s cock, his pelvis slams against Bruce’s ass. “Good.” He drives inside, so hard and deep that Bruce feels nearly overcome, his eyes clenching shut. “Care of you.” Jerome’s hand roughly strokes his cock in time with his thrusts and Bruce feels his toes start to curl.

“Daddy, daddy,” he warbles into the skin of his arm. “I’m so close, daddy. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he begs, every muscle in his body starting to flutter and clench as Jerome fucks into him hard enough that the bedframe is actually starting to rock, the headboard knocking against the wall. “I’ll be so good for you, daddy, please.”

“You are so good,” Jerome huffs against his neck, lips and teeth skimming Bruce’s skin. His hand over Bruce’s own grips onto Bruce so tight that Bruce is sure he’ll feel Jerome’s fingers between his for days. “Always so good for me. I love you so much.”

Bruce whimpers as he starts to come in Jerome’s fist. He rides out his orgasm with Jerome’s hand still stroking him and Jerome’s cock still filling him to the brim, and he feels oversensitive tears prick his eyes as he begins to moan, “I love you too, I love you too.”

Jerome’s teeth dig into his shoulder and Bruce’s vision goes bleached and hazy as Jerome desperately begins to grind against him like he wants to be closer, deeper, fill Bruce up completely. The hand on Bruce’s cock falls away, the arm wrapping tightly around his waist to keep them locked together as close as possible as Jerome comes inside of him.

Bruce’s ears are ringing as Jerome’s teeth pull away from his skin, as Jerome lays kisses across his shoulders and neck, as Jerome’s hand grips at Bruce’s like he never wants to let go. Bruce shudders and sighs, muscles trembling from the intensity of it all, and he makes a soft, reedy sound when he feels Jerome’s softening cock slip out of him.

They twist, or rather, Jerome twists them, because Bruce feels too worn out to even lift a finger. He feels absolutely, wonderfully wrecked. He honestly doesn’t think he’s going to be able to walk for at least five minutes because his legs currently feel like jello. Jerome hovers over him, grinning down at him like, well, like a madman. But he’s Bruce’s madman, so…

“You’ve been holding out on me, Jerome,” he manages once he remembers how to move his tongue and mouth in order to form words again. His brain feels curiously static, unable to focus on anything but the man above him. If Jerome asked, Bruce honestly wouldn’t be able to recall what day of the week it was. 

“What, no ‘daddy’?” Jerome’s extremely satisfied expression morphs into a pout. “I liked it so much—” Yeah, Bruce could tell. “—call me that again. Just once more, baby.” He takes Bruce’s other hand in his own and presses kisses to his knuckles. “Then I’ll leave it alone.” For all of fifteen minutes, probably. 

“That’s for special occasions,” Bruce says, still trying to catch his breath. “If I indulge you too much it’ll lose its appeal.”

Jerome links their fingers together and says, far more solemn than Bruce feels this conversation deserves, “Trust me, Bruce, it’s not going to lose its appeal.” 

“If I indulge you too much you’ll never stop,” he amends. Although, really, Jerome was already not going to stop, or else he would have long before Bruce decided to give into it. 

Jerome makes a thoughtful sound under his breath as his fingers untangle from Bruce’s, playfully skimming up his arms.

“That’s true, but what if I indulge you right back, baby?” Jerome presses kisses along his chest and up his neck before finally sliding their lips together in a way that lingers and makes Bruce’s thoughts spin delightedly. “What if I give you every little thing that you want and need?” He braces himself on his hands and stares down at Bruce with soft eyes. “Dote on you and adore you and give you times where you can unwind and take it easy and let someone else take care of you?”

Bruce’s heart flutters in his chest.

“Take care of me, huh?” Bruce darts up to press a quick kiss to Jerome’s mouth before falling back on the bed, feeling utterly boneless. “Draw me a bubble bath, then we’ll talk.”

Jerome laughs as he does as he’s told.


End file.
